Final blog post

Well, I guess this is as good a time as any other to write my final blog post. I just heard some distressing news from Senegal (via Germany). Regina facebooked me today to tell me that our Maman from Dakar kicked Marie-Louise, the maid, and Florinda, her daughter, out of the house. Apparently Florinda wasn't doing well enough in school for Maman to keep supporting them, so she cut them off. From what Regina told me, Maman told ML that she has to go back to her village in Casamance and she won't even let them stay in Dakar, but ML has a job in Rufisque, a suburb of Dakar, which Maman apparently doesn't know about.
This is just kind of a resurfacing of all the problems and emotions I went through while in my homestay in Dakar: the outrage, the confusion, and the feelings of helplessness. I would love to do something, especially for Florinda since she now has no means of going to school. Without education, there is no way she can be anything other than a maid when she's older, especially since her French is sub-par. Regina and I are going to try to work something out in terms of sending money to Florinda, probably through an NGO, since ML doesn't have an address (at least one that isn't also her employers' address). I wish I could be in Senegal to give Florinda and ML hugs, but at the same time I'm very relieved that I don't have to deal with this firsthand. I think I would have a very hard time living with Maman after this.
Anyway, other than that, life is moving along as always. I'm in Iowa for the summer doing anthropological research, and missing certain parts of Senegal while not missing others. I definitely don't miss pit toilets. It's been hot enough the last couple of days that I've been taking cold showers, which has made me oddly nostalgic for the days of village bucket showers! Other than minor things, I haven't experienced too much culture shock. The most culture shock I had was going from the village to Dakar, where everything seemed shiny and expensive and there was actually internet and non-Senegalese food! Nonetheless, I feel like I've been talking nonstop about the good and bad parts of Senegal to anyone who will listen, and am tentatively planning an ataaya date with Maddie, who was in Senegal the fall before me. I can't wait to have some bissap jam and clumsily make tea.
Ba beneen yoon!!! Heather

Internship, a typical day, and an atypical surprise!

April 24^th, 2011

Just before sitting down to write a new blog post, I found an egg on my bed, on top of the mosquito net, with no idea how it got there. I asked my sister Mounasse about it and she told me that the chicken sometimes comes into the rooms and lays eggs there! Definitely an Easter surprise if ever there was one. In any case, we saved the egg and I thankfully didn’t sit on it or anything.

Time is really flying by, and I can hardly believe that I only have a week left in Potou, and then a week in Dakar after that. It’s going to be really difficult to say goodbye to my family, and already they are telling me that they’re going to miss me when I leave. I don’t want to think about that yet!! I’ve really grown close with my sisters. In addition, my communication skills have improved a whole lot since being here. My Wolof, though far from fluent, is passable, and I can usually get across what I want to say, and I can sometimes even follow conversations that my family members have between each other.

My internship is still unfortunately far from perfect. I feel like one of the major problems for me is lack of communication, and the fact that sometimes the people in positions of responsibility are not responsible at all. For example, my supervisor the principal, while a nice guy, doesn’t really have any idea what’s going on in the school, and doesn’t really tell me anything. The first Monday back from vacation, I came to school at 8 as always, and the principal told me I would be in M. Diallo’s class that day. Until that point I had been mostly just observing in classes and had taught once or twice. I get to class and sit down at a desk, thinking I will be just observing. Five minutes pass and M. Diallo isn’t there yet, and then it hits me: M. Diallo isn’t coming. I have to teach this class for two hours. I hadn’t made a lesson plan or anything, but fortunately I had some grammar review planned that I had done with the informal classes during the vacation. The class went well, despite my total lack of planning, but I was extremely frustrated with the principal afterwards.

Lack of communication seems to be a theme that has plagued my internship. I’ve had the most success communicating directly with the teachers themselves, but even then I sometimes come to class not sure if I will be just observing and occasionally helping or having the whole class to myself. For the past two weeks I’ve been trying to organize a computer training for the teachers of the primary school, and although the teachers seem to be supportive, it’s been very difficult to organize. We had it all set in place that I would conduct a training session today from 9-11 AM, so I woke up early, had breakfast, and made it to the primary school by 8:55. No one was there yet, so I waited (I’ve learned that I need to bring a book with me everywhere I go). No one showed up. I waited until 9:30 before calling the director of the primary school, who told me that the teachers were too tired from another seminar and decided not to come to the training today. However, no one thought to call me and tell me this news. It’s these organizational things that have been really frustrating, and I feel like I am often in the dark.

In addition, one of my internship frustrations has been the way that English is taught in the schools. It’s a very structured approach, and barely requires any effort or creativity on the part of the teacher. Every lesson is divided into Pre-Reading (vocabulary), While Reading (comprehension questions) and Post-Reading (grammar exercises, usually). The approach seems very canned and I don’t think it facilitates students learning very well. I know half the class probably can’t follow the lesson, but I also feel pressure from the teachers to follow this pedagogical method. In any case, there is no creativity involved. During the informal classes, I asked the students to write a story and they had a hard time stringing sentences together. One student literally paraphrased a passage from the book. I really wish that I could do more fun things with my classes, but the educational system is so structured that I don’t think the students would even understand what I was trying to do. I’m really glad that I got at least a little chance to do that with my informal classes, though. The students will remember more if they are having fun while learning, in my opinion. I taught them Rock, Paper, Scissors, and there are still students who come up to me and play it.

On a different tangent, let me describe one of my typical days in Potou:

7 AM: I wake up to my alarm or to a rooster crowing. It’s already light out, so I hop out of bed, use the pit toilet, wash my face and hands, and get dressed. Even though I have just rolled out of bed, I make sure to greet everyone I see, since it’s considered rude not to. This usually consists of “Bonjour!! Nelaw nga bu baax?” “Waaw! Nelaw naa bu baax!” (Did you sleep well? Yes, I slept very well!).

7:20-7:30 AM: Eat breakfast, which is café au lait (Nescafe, powdered milk, and sugar) and a huge piece of bread (we’re talking half a long baguette) with butter. The first few weeks I had a lot of trouble eating it all, but now I can scarf it down in five minutes flat…I think my stomach is expanding.

7:30-8 AM: Walk to school, either through the market (lots of people) or through the fields (less people, and better if I am running late).

8 AM- noon: Teach or help out in the classes

12:30 PM: Return home for my lunch break. Usually my sisters have already started making lunch, but sometimes we have to go to the boutique for miscellaneous items.

1-3: Help out cooking lunch, which is usually ceeb u weex (fish, sauce, vegetables, rice) or ceeb u xonq (same thing, but with tomato sauce). Alternately, I can drift in and out of the kitchen, and sometimes I will take this time to nap, lesson plan, or just hang out with my sisters.

Lunch: Anywhere from 2-4, we eat lunch. We have a communal bowl and I have been trying to learn to eat with my hands the way they do. There is a special technique to making a little ball of rice with your hands and shoveling it into your mouth without dropping any, which I am in the process of mastering. A few weeks ago I told my sisters I wanted to eat with them, and so now I always eat lunch and dinner with them, squeezed around a communal bowl with at least 10 other people! Even though it's crowded, I much prefer it to awkwardly eating alone with my father. I always get more than enough to eat, and sometimes my sisters will even go as far as to put food on my spoon while I am chewing.

3:30: Return to school

4-6: Afternoon class, sometimes with a break at 5 for prayer, but sometimes not (I’m not sure why this isn’t consistent).

6: Return home, rest a little bit, and take a shower if I didn’t take one during my lunch break. One thing that’s very different than the US is that the preferred shower time is during the afternoon, since the water is warmer. Also, all my sisters change clothes right after their shower, so they look snazzy at night, then they sleep in their clothes, and don’t change them again until their shower the next day. I always feel a little weird in the morning when I am wearing fresh clothes and they are all in their clothes from the night before! Also this is the time when I sometimes run errands with my sisters: to the boutique, to the mill, etc.

7 PM: Help with dinner, which is always delicious and doesn’t get boring. Sometimes we have savory things and sometimes we have sweet things, like laax or fonde, both of which are millet-based. Usually any dinner preparation involved a lot of pounding with a mortar and pestle and chopping vegetables, and these tasks are usually easy enough to be entrusted to me.

9 PM: Dinner! Again, usually around a communal bowl with the exception of a few dishes like fattaya, which are easier to serve individually.

9:30 PM: Hang out with my sisters and wait for someone to make attaaya, though usually I am pretty tired so I end up dozing off.

11 PM: Usually I will wait until I have had my first glass of attaaya before excusing myself to go to bed, while my sisters are still up.

11:30 PM: Use the internet if I have it, get ready for bed, and journal. I’m so proud of myself that I’ve been journaling every day, and now it would be weird to go to bed without it. I’m almost out of pages in my journal!

Midnight: Crawl into my mosquito net and go to sleep, only to start the whole thing over again the next day!

That’s all for now! It’s really hard to believe that I only have two weeks (now less!) left in Senegal.

Edited to add: This morning the chicken snuck into my room twice in the space of ten minutes, looking for its egg! It’s a reminder that I should probably keep my door firmly shut. Sneaky chicken.

An update from Potou!! Finally!

April 3^rd, 2011

Well, it’s been way too long since I’ve written a blog entry, but now I actually have a usable internet connection, so I figured I should write an update. I’m in the village of Potou, near the larger town of Louga in the northwest of Senegal. My internship here is with the CEM, which is the equivalent of a middle school, except that many students are as old as 18.

I was really nervous to come here and start my internship, especially given that I didn’t have the best experience with my family in Dakar, but my family here has been really great, on the whole. I have more siblings than I can count, and I’m not really sure which child belongs to whom since there are always a bunch of people running around. This makes it a little hard for me, as an introvert, because it’s very difficult for me to find any time to be alone. I have a whole lot of sisters, and they always have friends over, so I like hanging out with them. I’ve also been helping a lot with chores around the house, especially cooking. I want to learn how to cook all the yummy Senegalese dishes!

The food here is really wonderful, and I don’t think there has been one dish that I haven’t liked. Tonight we are having fattayas, which is one of my favorites: it’s sort of like a samosa with different spices, and you dip it in an onion sauce, which is delicious. Speaking of food, I am constantly being encouraged to eat, and my family doesn’t believe me when I say that I’m full. Every meal, I have to insist “Suur naa, neex na, bari na! Lekk naa ba suur!!!” which means, “I’m full, it was good and a lot! I ate until I was full.” It’s a little exhausting, though, and I know that I am probably gaining a lot of weight (which is what my family wants). They told me that when I go back to Dakar, they will be proud of me because I’ve gained weight, which is exactly the opposite of what Americans want, usually. One odd thing about meals, though, is that often I eat lunch or dinner with just my father, which is a little uncomfortable since it’s a lot more formal than eating with my sisters, and he always tells me “Arame…añal.” Or “Arame…reeral.” Arame is my Senegalese name here, and añal and reeral mean, respectively, “eat lunch!” and “eat dinner!” I have to respond “Maangiy añ!” or “Maangiy reer!”: “I’m eating!!” We usually have a communal bowl, instead of indvidual plates like in Dakar, but that makes it a lot easier for my parents or my sisters to push food towards my side. Anyway, I much prefer eating with my sisters but sometimes they tell me that I have to eat with my father. Here, eating alone is a sign of respect, so I guess eating with my father is also a sign of respect, but it’s still a little awkward sometimes.

Another food-related update: we make attaaya (Senegalese tea), at least once, usually twice and sometimes three times a day. I love attaaya and we barely made it at all in Dakar, but it has so much sugar that I’m sure I’m getting some cavities. Also, the order that the attaaya is served in also seems to have to do with respect. My parents are always served first, then me, since I am a guest, and then my siblings, usually the older ones first. The person making the tea always drinks last. I’ve tried to make it once or twice but I always end up spilling most of the tea, since you have to pour it from a height of about a foot in order to get a good foam on the top, and I’m not very good at pouring.

My internship here hasn’t been great, mostly because there is not much for me to do. My boss, the principal, doesn’t really have his act together, and he doesn’t really know what’s going on. The first week of my internship went pretty well. I sat in on some English classes and was able to teach a little bit. It’s really difficult to teach English to non-native speakers, and the level of the students is very low. I feel like something is not right with the way that English is being taught here, because I worked with students who had been studying for three years and they had trouble forming sentences. One thing that I have noticed is that there is not much review of concepts, and so students are being introduced to complicated grammar structures when they don’t even know the basics. My students couldn’t name all the colors in English, and they had trouble with ABCs and counting.

So, the first week went pretty well, but at the end of it, my boss told me that the next week we would start a two week long vacation because of the Independence Day holidays. I was very clear with him that since I am only here for six weeks, I wanted to keep busy even when everyone else is on vacation, but he basically just told me that there is nothing to do, and I should have a nice vacation. This really frustrated me, and I tried to figure out something that I could do at the primary school, but they basically told me the same thing. On the phone, they had said that there would be work for me to do, but then when I went there to check it out, they basically told me the same thing, have a nice vacation. Culturally, I think it’s more acceptable to say yes even when there is no work for me to do. I was given the key to the office to go and “work” but no one told me what work I should do!

Anyway, the first couple of days of the break were nice, but I honestly had nothing to do at the office. There isn’t a library and there is only one computer, so I couldn’t really help there. However, with the help of Waly, our MSID staff member, and my host father, we were able to organize informal English lessons during the break. They are at my house, and we have been getting together for two hours every weekday afternoon. I like this a lot better than teaching lessons at school, when I feel like there is a very rigid structure to follow and there are so many students in each class that I don’t really know what to do with them. However, in the informal lessons, there have been only five to nine students who have shown up, so we are more able to play games without everything getting out of hand. Even nine students is a lot to control when you are trying to play a game like “Simon says.” They like playing Simon Says a lot, but they have a lot of energy!!

On Friday, I was really proud of my students because I think they started to grasp a grammar concept that had shown up on their exam, but that they had not done well on. I made them a chart for declarative, interrogative, and negative statements in the past and present tenses, and I told them that literally, you can just follow the chart when you are trying to form a sentence. Charts and tables help me a lot, and they were especially helpful for Wolof, so I thought they might like the visual help, whereas earlier they just had to memorize. Honestly, I don’t think the system of teaching English is super great, and the book, while geared towards Senegalese students, seems not to take certain things into account. For example, the students were learning the English words for badminton and hockey, when they had no idea how these sports were even played.

Another thing that has been really difficult for me here is how different the concept of ownership is, and how I do have a lot more money than anyone here. Last week, I lent my brothers my iPod, thinking that it was a nice gesture, but since then they haven’t stopped asking me for it. While I like my family on the whole, many of them have been subtly or not-so-subtly implying that when I leave, I should give them the iPod, because I have enough money to buy another one back in the US. The thing is, it’s true that I don’t really need an iPod, and I was actually thinking that it might be nice to give it to my family when I leave. However, the fact of them asking for it made me immediately not want to. I guess it’s a cultural difference: here, if you want something you make it known, while in the US, you keep your mouth shut. Also, giving after being asked for something feels more like an obligation rather than a real gift.

On the subject of ownership, things here are definitely shared more, which can be a hard thing for toubabs to deal with. For example, my sister Mounasse asked me to borrow my shoes to go to the market. After that, my shoes sort of became public property, and I have seen at least half the women in my family wearing them. If one person has something, it belongs to everyone in the family. I’m struggling with my own cultural background, too, which tells me, “Those shoes are mine!” even if it is just a $2 pair of shoes that I will probably end up giving to the family anyway. One interesting insight: in the US, it seems like one of the first words children learn is “mine” or “no,” whereas here, it seems to be “mai ma,” which means “give me” or “offer to me.”

Finally, I’ll try to give you a little portrait of my family, as best as I can. There’s my father Saer and mother Awa, who I would guess are in their 50s. My father speaks French pretty fluently, but my mother barely at all. I have a whole lot of siblings, and though they aren’t all children of my parents, it’s easier for me to think of it that way. In fact, it’s very possible that they youngest ones are the children of the oldest ones. There’s Fa-Cisse, who is 4 and is very “reew,” or impolite, according to everyone in the family. She is a little rambunctious and whenever you have food, she will drop everything she’s doing and demand “mai ma!” Baymoor is probably 8, and though he doesn’t speak any French, he always gives me a high five when I come home and I like to act a little silly with him. He’s a little shy, though. Nogoye is about 11 and is already so much more competent than I am in everything concerning housework. I often go with her to the market and we went once to the mill to grind millet, so she has been able to show me the ropes a little bit. Sokhna is probably 12 or 13, and she loves to dance. We have fun dancing the youza together and generally being silly. Arame is my homonym (we are both named Arame Gueye), is 14 or 15, and has been such a big help to me here. She and Mounasse (17) have helped me feel more at home here. Arame also is kind of my mother sometimes, in that she always makes me eat a lot, and she is always trying to make sure that I am comfortable. Mounasse, or Maimouna, also helps me out a lot, and we usually go the market together every morning. She has a lot of copains (boyfriends) and is trying to find me a Senegalese copain, despite my pleas that I’m not looking for one. Kapy is also 17, and he always makes a lot of attaaya. Arame, Mounasse and Kapy have also been coming to my English lessons! Mami is probably 20, doesn’t speak a lot of French, and often does a lot of the housework, but she is really willing to help me out, too. She jokes that I am “Baby Arame,” as opposed to my sister, the other Arame. My brother Boss is 20 as well, but I don’t feel as comfortable around him, since I feel like our only interactions consist of him asking me to give him things, or him demanding me to dance. A side note: everyone here thinks that it’s HILARIOUS when I dance, no matter what it is. I nearly caused a riot in one of my classes because they were begging me to dance the youza. Anyway, Faou is another one of my sisters, and she is probably about 22. She speaks almost no French so we have a lot of trouble communicating, but she has been really nice to me and makes sure that I speak to all of her relatives on the phone (which is another ordeal all together! I can barely speak in French on the phone, much less Wolof). I don’t know how old Misse is, but she is definitely older than Faou and may be Fa-Cisse’s mother (not sure on that). She is also usually nice to me, but always tell me that I have a lot of money, and that I need to send her money or things when I get back to the US, which makes me feel a little uncomfortable. Thiambou is another one of my siblings as well, though she is only here for the vacation. She is a teacher in Podor, in the north of Senegal, and she is the one who lent me the Internet key. She is quite loud and bossy but in a likeable way, and she has also helped me by explaining things to me, even if it’s something I already know about. In addition to all of these people, there are always others hanging around! So it’s a lot of people to know and greet every day. In Senegal, and especially in villages, if you pass someone you know on the street without greeting them, it’s considered an insult. This has been quite hard since I’ve met so many people in the last two weeks and have trouble keeping straight who I know and who I don’t know.

That’s all for now! I’ll try to write more but it’s hard to find time alone to use my computer. In any case, I’ve been keeping a pen and paper journal so maybe I can post some retroactive updates once I’m back in Dakar.

Project Jom

Hey everyone!
Last time I posted about the well pump project that we are starting--here are more details. The website is up and running, and we are ready to accept donations.
The website address is: www.wix.com/projectjom/warc

We visited a small village in rural Senegal called Dassilamé Sérère.  This village is home to a community garden run by a small group of incredibly hard-working women.  Each woman has her own garden plot, in which she cultivates onions, tomatoes, eggplant, carrots, okra, etc. year-round.  For some women, these small gardens are the only means of earning a living for their families.  In order to water their crops, the women have to haul countless buckets of water from a well far outside the limits of the garden.  We attempted to haul the water from the well to the garden, and found it to be an arduous task.

Noticing the need for an efficient system to transport the water to the gardens, we decided to start an initiative to raise money for a water pump.  The estimated cost of the pump, installation, and transport is $4,000 USD.  With your help, we believe we can raise this amount to help the women of Dassilamé Sérère become more self-sufficient and further advance their community organization.  Please consider donating to this incredibly worthy cause that we have witnessed first-hand. 

Thank you for your consideration!

Again, the address is www.wix.com/projectjom/warc.

I'll post a longer blog entry later! Heather

Dundu Afrikan yi

February 28, 2011

Oh dear…it’s been an exorbitantly long time since I last wrote a blog post, but at least it’s still February! (though only barely, I admit) Well, in the interim, I have been to Toubacouta (a village several hours south of Dakar), and have nearly finished with classes. Toubacouta was really wonderful: it’s primarily a tourist village, so we had quite ritzy accommodations. Seven out of the ten of us got sick at once point or another, though, which was unfortunate. While we weren’t sick, though, we were able to attend many traditional dance ceremonies, a traditional wrestling ceremony (la lutte), and learn a lot about development in a rural area. One of the site visits that most affected us was the visit to a community garden in the village of Dassilamé Sérère, which has a gardening coop run almost exclusively by women. It kind of seems like the men just sit back and relax while the women spend all their time in the fields. Anyway, Gabe had the idea to start a project to fund a pump for their well: right now they have to haul all the water up by hand, and a pump would make their work a whole lot easier. A couple of us are really spearheading this project, and we intend to set up a website in the next couple of weeks where we can take donations to fund our well pump project. I’ve sort of fallen into place as the treasurer for this project, and I will definitely post a link once we get our website up and running. In the meantime, please think about if you would be willing to donate to fund a well for these women.

It’s been really hard for us to believe that we have less than two weeks of classes! Most of us are going to St. Louis for spring break, which is in the north of Senegal (it’s the old colonial capital). We’ll spend 4 nights (I think) in St. Louis and then head back down south to the deserts of Lompoul, where hopefully we can do some roughin’ it and riding camels, possibly. After that, I will be headed to my internship! I’m going to be in a little village of about 4,000 people called Leona, which is about an hour south of St. Louis, I think. I’ll be teaching in the equivalent of a middle school, and most likely I’ll be working with 12 and 13 year olds. I’ll be teaching English and maybe another social science topic, as well as doing administrative duties. I might also get a chance to work in the primary school! I can’t tell you how excited I am, despite going to a tiny village where I will probably eat fish for three meals a day (ceeb u jen, here I come!). Speaking of food: I know this is a sidenote, but today the WARC cafeteria served curry (Indian-style except for the beef), and it was delicious. Not very Senegalese, but just what I’ve been craving. Normally I can’t eat the large portions that they give us, but today I ate the whole darn thing, and it only took about an hour.

This morning, as part of our International Development class, we visited the Liberté 6 barracks. Normally, I’m not the biggest fan of my International Development class, but today was easily the best day we’ve had yet. The strange thing is, Liberté 6 is a very well off neighborhood, but there are these slums right in the middle of it. ENDA Tiers-Monde, which is a local NGO, funded people to move from more established poor areas to Liberté 6, but the effect is very chilling: poverty in the midst of bourgeoisie. ENDA sponsored them and built them schools and everything, but the schoolrooms aren’t even used because there are no teachers. It was strange to see little chairs and desks in perfect condition but with a thick layer of dust and cobwebs because they were so rarely used. About halfway through our tour of the barracks, a group of children ran up to us, as they did in Toubacouta. In many parts of Dakar, being approached by a mob of children means that they are usually asking for money, but in the barracks it was more similar to the village. They are not as accustomed to seeing white people, and thus immediately run up to you and hold your hand (or stroke your hair, or laugh at your moles, etc.). The minute we brought out our cameras they went crazy and wanted pictures taken left and right; very different to many parts of the city where people don’t want you taking pictures, or want you to pay for them.

It was really amazing to see people living in such squalid poverty, especially when contrasted with just across the street where there were modern-looking apartments. Everyone was really making do, though, and they were very proud to show us their houses, which were honestly no more than shacks. It’s also astounding to realize that while this NGO was perhaps helping them by moving them out of the banlieue, they either ran out of money or left before they could really implement the programs, like the school, that they had planned for, and so constructed a school that no one uses. It was quite a contrast from when we visited the Ecole de la Rue (street school). Even though the Ecole de la Rue started off with almost no money, they are really making a go of it by getting university students to volunteer as teachers. The whole thing is funded by one man’s profit from his farm, and he has invested so much into this school that it’s become more sustainable. By no means is it a perfect system, but they are able to send students from the street school into public school, and it seems like a more effective way of getting them out of poverty. Liberté 6 just seemed like an unfinished project, where the conditions hadn’t really improved much and, while there were some necessary infrastructures that had been put in place, ENDA hadn’t done enough to sustainably implement their programs.

On a completely different note, this weekend Regina and I paid a visit to Marché Sandaga where we bought (fake) hair to put in tresses. I think my host sister is going to do it tomorrow…it should be interesting and I will definitely post pictures. I can’t deny I’m a bit nervous, especially for the fact that I won’t be able to wash my hair as long as I keep it in. Regina is also blonde, and we probably bought all the fake blonde hair that is sold in Dakar…there’s not exactly a high demand for it. I also bought some more fabric this weekend at the Foire Internationale de Dakar! Hundreds of merchants came from a bunch of different African countries, and I bought some absolutely beautiful fabric from Benin. Still not sure what exactly I’ll have made…maybe another taille baisse, but maybe I’d like to have clothes that are a little more Western-style, I don’t know.

The Foire, which we visited on Saturday, was also a bit of a study in contrasts. When we first walked in, it literally felt like some sort of strange expo in the States, like a Homes and Gardens show. There were a lot of booths selling very different things: some were selling home furnishings, some were NGOs, and we talked to one man about aquaculture. There almost didn’t seem to be anything linking them together, besides a common interest in Senegal. There was also a complete other pavilion where merchants were just selling things from their home countries, which was quite cool. You can get a lot of the same stuff at Marché Sandaga, but Sandaga is so overwhelming: at the Fair, there weren’t people constantly following you around and trying to get you to come to their stalls (though that did happen a bit, let’s be real, we are in Senegal).

Anyway, it’s probably getting close to dinnertime. There’s a coupure so that means no electricity for now, though we were really lucky to have it for nearly two days straight! It’s always funny to see who gets courant (electricity) and who doesn’t, and sometimes it’s not what you’d expect. Of course, neighborhoods where influential people live don’t often get power cuts, but on the flip side, wealthier neighborhoods like Mermoz get cut a lot more often than poor neighborhoods like Pikine. Why? Mermoz is a very calm neighborhood as well, so there aren’t going to be any riots in the street if there isn’t power. Apparently, in more turbulent, poverty-ridden quartiers, people will take to the streets and start burning tires in the case of a power cut. Speaking of power cuts, I keep thinking about something my host niece Florinda said the other day. We were walking back from buying beer for my host mom (they’re Catholic, so they sometimes like to faire la fête), and I asked Florinda about her birthday. First of all, she doesn’t know when her birthday is, only that it is two days after her mother’s wedding anniversary (how she knows when that is, I don’t know). I asked her about her last birthday and she told me that she prayed and prayed and prayed that there would be electricity for her birthday. Instead of praying for gifts, she prayed for courant. Something that we in the US take for granted so much is so important here, where we don’t have it all the time. Now that I think about it a bit more, though, it makes more sense to me. She can’t really expect to get many gifts for her birthday, so instead of praying for something she knows won’t be fulfilled, she prays for something that is up to chance, and it’s no one’s fault if she doesn’t get it (well, maybe Abdoulaye Wade’s [current president] fault).

OK, dinner is soon. I’ve been attempting to keep up with current events in Libya but have not been doing such a great job. No one needs worry that the unrest will spread to Senegal, though; I would be extremely shocked if the movements from the Middle East reached us. A couple of weeks ago I asked my host family what they thought of the situation in Egypt and they had no idea what I was talking about, though I think they’re more informed about Libya. All is pretty much safe and sound here, and though people are angry at Wade, as always, at the moment Senegal doesn’t have the willpower to take to the streets.

Kudos to you if you read through this whole post—it was quite longer than I expected. Pictures, as always, are on my Facebook, though I will try to put some up here soon. Also, in the vein of trying, I will try to be a more regular updater.

Ba beneen yoon!

A necessary update

February 6, 2011

It’s been way too long since I actually wrote a blog entry! Oh dear! Anyway, Dakar life has been really great so far, if extremely tiring. Every night when I go to bed, I’ve been falling asleep almost immediately, even if I’ve just been relaxing all day! At the moment, four of us are sitting in MyShop, which is a bizarre little extension of the US in Dakar: it’s a little convenience store, plus burgers, pizza, and ice cream, and American music constantly playing. A lot of toubabs hang out around here, and it’s near school, so it’s a convenient meeting place. Also there is free wifi, which is a great incentive! Yesterday Regina and I spent most of the day working on our schoolwork in restaurants, which went well until one VERY DRUNK Senegalese man kept harassing us (keep in mind this was at about three in the afternoon). It was really inappropriate and wouldn’t have happened if we had been Senegalese instead of white and blonde. On our walk home, we saw the cutest little lamb in the road, and someone had tied a baby’s bib on it. We stopped and started to take a picture, but a man just ran out of the nearby house and started shouting, “Il faut payer!” (You have to pay!) We were again really shocked at this and just kept walking instead of taking the picture. It’s very strange to be immediately judged just because we are toubabs, and to have people try to take advantage of us.

Mostly this week has just been a lot of getting more comfortable with Dakar and everything. On Friday, Megan and I took a walk around Mermoz, and ended up managing to get to Katie’s house in Liberté 2 (without a map and without getting lost!!) It was great to just hang out at her house in the afternoon when we don’t have class.

All of us have been spending a lot of time at the beach, which is really nice, as the weather has been wonderful lately (if a little chilly sometimes—all you Midwesterners can laugh at my wimpiness).

Oh, also I’ve been honing my bartering skills at markets and taxis, where most things are ridiculously overpriced and you really have to work to get the prices down. But it really does help if you have a Senegalese person with you when you are trying to negotiate a taxi, and they can get you a much better rate than you would normally be able to get. Taxis are everywhere! I would say almost half the cars are taxis, which are yellow and black and look like they have parts taken from at least four different cars.

Anyway, I am getting quite sleepy so I think I will leave it at that for now! But if I can I will post something in the next few days. Look at my facebook for pictures! Heather

Another post! I am in class but we are on a break!

January 28^th, 2011

Things seem to be settling in a little bit more since I last wrote, and it helps a lot that I am learning a lot of Wolof very quickly. We started classes on Monday, so this is the first weekend that is a real break for us, rather than just more fun activities. It’s Friday afternoon around 6, which is usually when we eat at home. The sun is still shining away here, though. It usually gets dark around 7:30, and when the sun goes down, it goes down fast. You don’t want to be caught in the dark alone. Today, we ended class around 2:30, after three full hours of Wolof. I feel like I am learning a lot of Wolof, but it’s all jumbled in my head and I can’t really form sentences. We’ve really only had three classes so far, but it goes so fast that sometimes I feel really lost. Today we learned what felt like every single verb we would ever need to use, but when I came home I still could barely understand anything that people were saying in Wolof. I was proud of myself for picking out the occasional word here and there, and I did learn the word for ironing. In theory, I can form simple sentences like “Maangiy jangi ba ci kanam,” (I am going to school so see you later!) but it really gets all jumbled. We’re also diving straight into grammar, which is completely different from French and English: instead of conjugating the verb based on tense, you conjugate the pronoun. So “laay” is first person present and “laa” is first person past (I think). Goodness gracious! Also, I had a little bit of a private linguistic anthropology moment in class today: to ask if someone has brothers or sisters, you literally ask “Do you have olders and youngers?” And you always specify older or younger siblings when you are talking about them. I thought that was pretty cool, and it also displayed the importance of age and the respect that comes with it in Senegalese and Wolof culture.

Today, we also went to the tailor! On Wednesday a whole group of us went to Marche HLM, which is the main fabric market. It was quite crazy and there were so many fabrics, African patterned and otherwise, to choose from. I ended up choosing an African printed fabric which is blue and cream colored and has stylized birds on it, and I could only get six meters of it, which is way more than enough to make an outfit. I also got a three piece packet of more Indian style fabric, which was pink and orange. Each of them were 4000 CFA, which is about $8. Today I went with Marie-Louise, one of our maids, to the tailor, where I paid 10000 CFA to have two outfits made. I think I got a taille baisse, which is like a two piece dress, and a shirt with pants, but I honestly have no idea what the tailor is going to make. I just pointed at some dresses in magazines that I liked and he flagged them. I’m going back on Wednesday to see what he comes up with, and I know it will be a surprise either way! With my limited French and Wolof, I sometimes feel really stupid. Also I had no idea what I wanted in terms of an outfit, but I’m sure I will like it when I see it.

Speaking of markets, yesterday Katie, Ian and I went to these Moroccan markets in downtown Dakar, near Marche Sandaga, which has a reputation for being one of the craziest markets. And let me tell you, it is quite insane. We were basically the only toubabs (white people) there, which made us such a target for people trying to sell us stuff, especially if we stood still. At one point the three of us had I think six or seven people trying to talk to us, which was quite overwhelming. After we escaped the craziness of Sandaga, we went back to the Moroccan markets, which were a bit calmer. I ended up buying a very interesting garment: at first glance, it looks like a dress, but you first wrap it around your chest, then swing it through your legs, and that comes around so you can wear it like a coat. And then you finish it off by tying a belt around your waist. So it’s like pants, but very loose fitting and more like a skirt actually. I really hope that I can wear it in the US, because although it’s probably not the same quality as a tailored piece, it’s very comfortable.

My family situation is also settling in, as is everything else. Funnily enough, I have talked more with the maids, who speak extremely limited French, than anyone else in the household. They are so nice and welcoming, and I especially like talking with Fatou, who speaks no French. Usually, we don’t really have actual conversation, but I try to practice my Wolof by reciting the days of the week or some equally mundane thing, like all the verbs that I have learned, or all the different body parts. She thinks it’s pretty funny, and I feel stupid when I can’t even understand the most basic sentences. But she is really great at helping me learn. It does make me uncomfortable how materially privileged I am compared to her and Marie-Louise though. This afternoon she asked me for the equivalent of 50 cents so that she could buy a phone card to call her mother. Of course I gave it to her, because unlike when people approach me on the street, I would have felt extremely selfish saying no. I hope a pattern of asking me for things doesn’t develop, because I would have a very hard time saying no. Though, I really should try to help out the maids as much as I can: even though I live in a comparatively well off family, the maids earn barely anything and they work all the time, I don’t think they ever get time off either. Fatou joked that starting Monday, I should be the one to buy the attaaya tea, and while we all laughed, it makes sense since I have comparatively so many more resources. I think I will buy the ingredients for attaaya, though I have no idea how exactly to make it. I know it’s a little block of green tea (I think it’s green, at least), mint leaves, and a whole lot of sugar. I wouldn’t be surprised if each little glass of attaaya has a full ½ cup of sugar in it…and I’m talking little glasses, too. I should definitely be taking more pictures around the house, especially when we make attaaya.

My proud accomplishment today was that I took the car rapide! Car rapides are quite hard to describe, and I don’t think I have a picture of one, though I will take one tomorrow and try to post it ASAP. They are buses that are extremely brightly colored and painted with all sorts of religious imagery and sayings. Most of them have eyes painted on the front, along with “Alhamdoulilah” (praise God) written in big letters. Regina, my German host sister, was planning on taking one to her class this morning and so I tagged along! Car rapides are very small and cramped, but even though we felt like sardines in this one, I’m sure you can fit double the amount of people in there. It’s only about 50 CFA, or about 10 cents, for my commute, which takes about 30 minutes walking. The man collecting money didn’t ask me for it, though, and Regina said if they don’t ask, you don’t have to pay it. So I stepped off the back of the bus, which was probably still moving a bit, without paying, and got to school quite early. It was a good experience though, and now I am not nearly as intimidated by it as I was before. Barely any toubabs take the car rapide, so Regina and I stood out a bit with our pale skin and blonde hair. I will definitely do it again, though!

Ba ci kanam!

My address!

Heather Riggs
West African Research Center
BP 5456 Fann Residence
Dakar, Senegal

Don't pay too much to send anything though...I have no idea how much it will cost you...

Life in Dakar

January 25, 2011

Today, we all arrived at WARC, which is where we take classes, only to find out that our International Development professor actually couldn’t come in today, so we basically have the morning off until noon. I walked to school today in 27 minutes, which is a new record for me! Though let it be said that I was walking alone and quite briskly. It’s so nice for it to be sunny and warm here, even though it’s January and I know that it’s freezing cold in Iowa. Speaking of Iowa, it’s very strange to be getting all the emails from Grinnell telling me about such and such meeting at one time or another…and I am on a different continent entirely. If anyone is ever on Skype very early in the morning (or very late at night!) there’s a chance I might be on, and you should give me a call!

So, I’m going to try to describe some of the aspects of my daily life. Dakar often smells like exhaust and garbage, which can sometimes be overwhelming. There is a whole lot of pollution in the air, especially on my walk to and from school. I live in Mermoz, which is a very nice neighborhood and pretty safe. It’s not the nicest neighborhood in Dakar, but it has a lot of character! There are almost always people around, and there are a lot of goats everywhere. In almost all neighborhoods, there are stray animals (dogs and cats) wandering around, while there are usually goats tied up on the side of the road. More than once, I have been startled by some goats bleating when I didn’t know they were there!

The food here is really different from Western food, most of the time. We eat a lot of fish and meat; the fish is almost always served whole, head, tail, eyes and all. Also there are a lot of bones which you have to pick out. The first couple of days, I was crunching on the bones all the time, but I have developed a method to picking out the spine which usually seems to work pretty well. Most of the food has been pretty spicy so far, and it gets even spicier when you put piment on it.

Another part of our daily life is the power cuts, or coupures. For the first couple of days, there was barely any power, except for sometimes at night. However, it’s been getting a bit better lately and there has been power almost all the time that I am there. It’s especially nice to have it at night and in the morning when it’s dark and I have to take a shower. Speaking of showers…

Lesson number one about Senegal: no one tells you how to take a bucket shower. My first morning in the house, there was a bucket of warm water and a bucket of cold water, and I really had no idea what to do with them. I pitifully tried to sponge myself with my washcloth but I was quite unsuccessful at getting all of the shampoo out of my hair. The next day, I figured out the method of how you are actually supposed to do it! It works so much better to use a measuring cup as kind of a spigot, and that way you don’t dirty the whole water bucket with your soap. Also, since the first day my showers have been freezing cold. It’s refreshing! It’s actually not too bad once you get used to it.

I live in a small little pink room on the second floor of my house. There is kind of an open air courtyard in the middle of the house next to the kitchen where the kids often play and we always eat breakfast. You can almost always hear Arfin and Gigi being rambunctious in the courtyard, since it barely ever rains and it’s usually pretty warm.

On Sunday, I went to the beach with some other students. It was very warm and we had fun playing in the waves and relaxing on the sand. Though it did start to get a little windy and chilly in the later afternoon. When I went home, everyone in my house was wearing sweaters and thought that it was very cold! It was so funny to see our different perceptions of cold, especially compared to the US.

Something funny that happened the other day: we were taking a taxi through downtown Dakar, where people are always trying to sell you things through the window, particularly small bits of food and phone cards. However, one guy came up to our cab with a long-handled broom and dustpan! We thought this was so absurd and hilarious, and tried to imagine someone buying that through their car window: “Oh, I’ve been looking for a broom! I’ll just buy one while in my car!” Also, another guy on the street had a t-shirt that read “Scappoose Track and Field”! Portland folk know that Scappoose is a pretty tiny Portland suburb, so it’s pretty strange that this shirt got all the way to Dakar. But it did make me think of GDS class and how companies like Goodwill and Salvation Army will sell clothes to developing countries: I have no doubt that’s how this t-shirt arrived here.

Another crazy experience that made me think:

My friend Samantha and I were walking to my house for dinner, and she was thirsty, so we stopped at a little hole-in-the-wall boutique where they sell all sorts of little food items. There was a man sitting in the stall as well as a man behind the counter, so we said “Salaam aleikum” to both of them and Sam started to pick out a soda from the refrigerator. The man sitting in front of the counter said “Passe-moi un Coca” (pass me a Coke) and so she did, assuming that he worked there. He then started to talk to us for a little while, but when Sam went to pay for her drink, the man behind the counter pointed to the two sodas (hers and the man’s) and asked her for a price which included the two drinks. We were both a little confused, and she told the man that no, she only bought one. He insisted that she was buying two, one for herself and one for the man. We were both a little shocked, and she didn’t have enough money for two, so I stepped in to pay for her. We had both felt a little bit tricked, since the man didn’t ask for her to buy him a Coke, he asked for her to pass him a Coke. However, we weren’t about to take it back from the man after we had already given it to him. It’s a learning experience, and also completely different from the “customer is always right” attitude of the states.

That’s all for now. I have 47 minutes until Wolof class and I should find a small snack before then. People here eat lunch so late! I don’t think I’ll really be able to eat until 2, since I have a class from 12 to 2. We don’t eat dinner until 8:30, usually!

My family

January 24, 2011

This will just be a quick blog post since I only have about 45 minutes until I have to go to my first class. Things have certainly gotten interesting, all right. We’ve been with our host families since Tuesday, and it’s been kind of difficult for me. I live with Maman Elisabeth, who is about 64 and is a big part of the Catholic community. She has been very welcoming for the most part, but I am a bit intimidated by her. She’s a very opinionated person and you wouldn’t want to get on her bad side. Also living with us is her son, Loulou, and his wife Djeyna. Loulou is usually at work except for the evenings, but when he’s around he’s very nice to me. He always asks me, “Tu es en forme?” meaning “Are you in shape?” or “Are you doing well?” He also loves to put piment, which is a very spicy sauce, on his food, and teases me when I don’t have enough piment. Djeyna is a different story altogether. I get a distinctly cold feeling from her, and she barely ever talks to me, which is difficult when we are the only ones in the house. If I ask her a question, she will respond but won’t elaborate, and I always have to initiate conversation. This has been pretty hard for me, since Maman Elisa is almost always out of the house and I feel like Djeyna is the only person who I can talk to, but she doesn’t really want to at all. Loulou and Djeyna also have two sons: Arfin is about one and a half and Gigi is three. They are very cute and playful, but when Djeyna won’t talk to me, I have no one to talk to but the three year old, which is sometimes frustrating. We also have two maids, Fatou and Marie-Louise, who don’t speak French, only Wolof. I wish I could communicate more with them because they both seem extremely warm and welcoming, but we only have a few words in common. Marie-Louise’s daughter Martine lives with us as well, and she is seven. I really like talking to her, but sometimes I feel as if it’s not appropriate since she’s the maid’s daughter. Marie-Louise and Fatou don’t eat with us, and Martine kind of eats in her own little corner. I really don’t understand why she’s not as included in the family, though maybe it is a class or religion thing that I don’t understand. It makes me kind of uncomfortable the way the rest of the family treats the maids—it’s a very weird class difference.

There is also a young German couple that live with us, Regina and Simon. Regina is a student at the university and Simon is a computer programmer working from Senegal. They have been really wonderful and have made a lot of efforts to include me. I guess they went out a lot with Russell, the American student who lived in the house in the fall. On Friday night they invited me to go out with them and their friends, and we stayed at the bar talking until 4 in the morning! Needless to say, I was very tired the next day. Our host family is Catholic, which means it isn’t a problem to have the occasional beer on the roof and chat for a while after dinner. Also: the roof. It’s the best spot in the house, and none of the family even goes up there except to hang laundry. You can see all over our neighborhood, and especially in the morning it’s extremely beautiful. The Germans and I like to hang out there sometimes after dinner, since most of the rest of the family goes to bed. It’s just very strange since Maman is usually out til 10 or 10:30, Djeyna is not at all social, Loulou is tired after work, etc etc. I speak English with Simon and Regina, which isn’t the greatest for my French skills, but I have definitely connected with them more than anyone else in the family. Simon is fluent in English but barely speaks any French, while Regina is pretty competent in both. Simon’s leaving this weekend for Germany but will be back at the end of February, so I wonder if Regina and I will speak more French together when he’s not here.

Pictures and a few words to go along with them!

I wrote the blog post this morning and now I'm too tired to write more (it's evening now). So, to prove I am really here I will give you some lovely pictures from the day!

The view from our hotel window!

Samantha, Megan and I in our beautiful Senegalese pagnes!

Lunch was ceeb u yopp!

We went to the beach! Only about a 5 minute walk from our orientation house.

This picture doesn't capture the beautiful pink sky that we saw--it was so vibrant!
Anyway, I'll write more later.

The word of the day is...dazed!

Well. I am here, alright, though after no sleep for the past 24 or so hours I don’t know how coherent this post will actually be. Let’s see: I arrived in Washington Dulles without delay, and after a bit of searching made my way to Gate A14, where I had to get my boarding pass. There were two college-age looking kids sitting with a humongous pile of bags, so after obtaining my boarding documents, I hesitantly approached them and asked, “Are you with MSID?” They were! We all gathered at the gate until the flight was starting to board, but at around 4:30 PM, there were only nine of us when there should have been ten. Gabriel, the tenth person and one of two guys, had been delayed in Chicago and would miss the group flight with us. So the nine of us clambered on the HUGE airplane. It was literally 75 rows long, with 8 seats across most of the time. I was close to the back, and I ended up sitting next to a woman a little bit older than me, who was on her way to South Africa with her parents. The demographics of this flight were very anthropologically intriguing: since it was stopping in Dakar on the way to Johannesburg, there were a lot of people (in our section, at least), who were on their way to what sounded like a safari tour. When the flight attendant told them that we would be stopping in Dakar, they had no idea where that was, which was a little bit amusing. In brief, the flight was long and I didn’t get much sleep. I dazedly watched a couple of movies that they were showing and chatted a bit with my seat partner, but we had a seat between us that, while allowing us to stretch out, was not too conducive for in-depth conversations.

I’m always tickled by the amenities that international flights provide, especially in contrast with domestic flights. For example, on this flight we had little eye masks, toothpaste, blankets, pillows, and little red socks. Also the food was so much better than any airplane food I’ve had before. Chicken tikka masala! Cheesecake! TILLAMOOK CHEESE! Guess this means I need to fly South African Airlines more often.

Going back to my anthropological musings on the flight, one of the most interesting moments was at the very end, when Waverly (also an MSIDer!) and I were getting off at Dakar. An obviously South African man asked us why we were getting off. “Stay on the flight to Jo’burg!” he insisted. Another man earlier had been very surprised when I got my bag and made to leave. People (especially old white men) don’t expect two young white women to be getting off at Dakar; why weren’t we going to South Africa with all the other white people? This is an exaggeration, of course, but it was a very strange interaction.

So! We got off the plane and our journey in Senegal began!! We were loaded onto a bus straight off the airplane, and we were waiting probably ten minutes for the very crowded bus to leave, presumably for a terminal that was pretty far away. Wrong. Literally 15 seconds after the bus leaves, we stop again at arrivals. What? We could have walked that in half the time we were waiting! Everyone has said Senegal is full of ridiculous things that just make you laugh, and this was our first prime example. After “customs,” which consisted of filling out an immigration card in Franglais and giving it to some bored-looking police officers, we were shuttled into the baggage claim room. Oh my word. Chaos doesn’t even begin to cover it. There were about two carousels, and bags everywhere: on the floor, on the carousels, in big piles, everywhere! Thankfully, everyone found their bags pretty quickly and we could leave (not before putting our bags through an x-ray machine that no one was watching—another ridiculous moment). We stepped out into the dark humid Senegalese morning, to be immediately accosted by dozens of men offering to carry our bags. Our program directors found us and shepherded us across the parking lot, still being hassled by men looking for some money to help us (“Non, merci” is the standard answer). Two or three of them actually followed us to our bus, and one of the program directors kept speaking with him in Wolof, I assume telling him we didn’t need his help. At one point, the man said “Je ne suis pas voleur! Je suis tough cool hustle man!” (I’m not a thief, I’m a tough cool hustle man!). It was pretty funny to watch, though none of us really knew what was going on or what to do. We all piled in the van, with our bags tied to the roof, and the guys kept knocking at the windows, wanting to talk with us or wanting us to pay them. We were (still are) very sleep deprived, and really had no idea what was happening, so it was a very funny situation. It was probably 6:30 AM or so by that point, and still very dark outside, though the sun was beginning to rise.

Driving through Dakar proved to be a very surreal experience. On the one hand, there are tons of run-down buildings, mostly sandstone I think, and lots of places that just look extremely impoverished. Donkeys and horses were just hanging out around the street. On the other hand, you see these really nice cars and especially women who are just decked out—jewels, stilettos, and often boubous (beautiful draped Senegalese dresses). It seems paradoxical that in a country where many people don’t have access to clean water or good education, there are still expensive cars in the street.

We arrived at our hotel a little dazed and confused, but again were told to unpack our bags for the night. I’m sharing a room tonight with one of the Amys, who goes to Penn State. She is a great roommate so far! Anyway, breakfast was at 7:30. Most of us were expecting the sort of continental breakfast served in hotels in the United States. Wrong again. Two women brought us our individual breakfasts on trays, which included orange juice, tea, cream, sugar, half a baguette, a croissant, butter, and jam. Wow! It was all very beautifully laid out, as well. I forgot to bring my camera down to breakfast but I will be sure to take a picture of this elegant meal!

After breakfast, I took a shower to rejuvenate a little bit. First of all, I have to explain the bathroom situation. The room is probably two feet by four feet, and packed into all of that is a sink, toilet, and shower. How does this work? Well, suffice it to say that you could sit on the toilet and be most of the way in the shower. Despite the cramped room, however, there was hot water! Very relaxing after no sleep. Anyway, now Amy and I are sitting in our room, blogging and journaling, with our open window bringing in the sounds of Dakar. There are so many people outside, just walking around, their voices carrying up to our room in a language we can’t understand. The city has a very distinct smell, though I can’t pinpoint it exactly: a combination of dust and exhaust.

It’s still very hard for me to believe that I’m here, and even harder to believe that it’s only 9:00 in the morning! I’m exhausted, but it’ll be best if I can stick it out until tonight, when I can really crash and then be on Senegalese time. A bientot!

Le vrai moment

I leave tomorrow morning for the airport around 5:30 AM. My flight to Washington Dulles leaves at 7:35, and then I am off! I should really have gone to bed a little earlier than now, but if I am a bit sleepy I can hopefully sleep a little bit better on the plane. All my bags are packed (into ONE suitcase and ONE backpack, I might add!) and I am pretty much ready to go, besides all the last minute things. One of my least favorite parts of early flights is all those little things that you can't put into your suitcase until right before you're about to go: hairbrush, toothpaste, contact solution, etc. Flying would be a whole lot simpler if I could pack absolutely everything the night before and not have to worry about the various miscellany. Anyway, I am signing off to take what will probably be my last hot bath or shower in five months!! I figure I should savor it while I can.
See you in Dakar!

Packing...

...is probably one of the activities that stresses me out the most. Right now, what I'm doing couldn't really qualify as packing, as much as throwing things willy-nilly onto my floor, my couch, or my bed and trying to figure out how in the world I am going to fit everything into a suitcase and a carry-on. I'll sort out what I really need to take later, but for now, half of my closet is chilling out in my suitcase, along with a random assortment of medications (one for every occasion and more than I could possibly ever use), toiletries, and host family gifts.
Speaking of host families, I got the placement for my Dakar family! The mother's name is Elisa, and she's a widow, has a "dynamic personality" and is a great cook. She lives with one of her sons, Loulou, and his wife Djeyna, and their two sons Bebe Edouard François, who is three, and Warren, who is only ten months old. Also living with the famille is Elisa's niece Marie Louise and her daughter Martine Clorinda, who is seven. I'm so excited to have a Senegalese maman and a big family!

A plethora of pre-departure preparations

I've decided to start this blog to keep you all updated on my "aventures sénégalaises," as one might say in French. For now, I'm working my way through the immensely large packet of articles on development, study abroad, Senegal, and global citizenship, provided by MSID (Minnesota Studies in International Development, the program through which I am studying abroad). I've been getting all my shots and everything I need to be prepared, though I can't say I'm excited to start taking my anti-malaria medication. I absolutely can't believe I only have 12 days until I leave: it's so soon and yet I feel completely unprepared, despite all my attempted preparations. At the moment all I'd really like to do is curl up with a good book and some chai and look out the window at the cold (though not by Iowa standards) grey Portland day. Yum. Fear not, though: twelve days to go still means twelve days to prepare...everything.
Peace,
Heather